From the Ashes
by Angels-Protegee
Summary: Sequel to "Broken Pieces" in three parts. It's a new life and new challenges for Erik and Vivienne as they learn the ups and down of being part of a family.
1. Chapter 1

**Here it is, for those of you who've been waiting! My three-part sequel to "Broken Pieces!" (Haven't read it yet, by any chance? Please do!) I realized there was a great opportunity to see exactly what Erik and Vivienne would be like as parents, so I imagined a few little vignettes with the two of them. More than anything, this helped me ease into letting the characters go, as I've never had such a hard time of leaving a story behind! I hope you like it!**

****_Vivienne_

True to Erik's prediction, our honeymoon in Vienna had been—amazing. For a month we explored the city and the surrounding countryside, and oh how I came to adore Austria and our amorous adventures there. It was almost a shame to return to France at last, but our house outside Paris was waiting for us, and the honeymoon continued. At least, it felt like it did; the thrill of being newlyweds hadn't worn off.

In all honesty, I was only surprised I hadn't gotten with child before we'd even left the Opera House. Not that I was complaining; neither of us had been ready for a child then, and Erik certainly hadn't been. The inevitable result of our constant lovemaking felt all the more precious when it finally happened. I knew that we could not only cope, but rejoice in it.

That's what I kept telling myself six weeks after sharing the news with my darling husband, at any rate. I'd had the warmest, most contented feeling on my heart ever since, and I was suddenly certain I was about to vomit it into the bathroom sink along with the contents of my stomach. What a way to spoil a summer morning! We'd been in the kitchen cooking breakfast together as usual, and for the first time in my memory, the smell of eggs made my insides squirm and my head spin as a wave of nausea swept over me. I'd abandoned the stove and raced off to the bathroom just in time to heave into the basin.

Erik followed right behind me, my sudden disappearance as unexpected as my sudden sickness was alarming. He held my hair back until I was finished and asked, "Are you all right, Vivienne?"

I paused to swallow hard, then nodded. My throat burned and I had a horrible taste in my mouth, but I replied, "I'm fine, but—I don't want eggs for breakfast. As a matter of fact, I don't even want them in the kitchen. Get them out."

"What would you have me do with them?"

"I don't really care," I told him, "but if I have to smell them again—" I broke off at the mere thought.

He nodded. "Don't move. I'll come back when the coast is clear." He vanished and I heaved a sigh of relief and annoyance. During my time as a chorus girl, I'd known several dancers to have liasons with the wealthy patrons and end up in my condition. It had been hard to sympathize with them since their own indiscretions had brought them to it, but my heart suddenly bled for those poor girls who'd rushed to escape rehearsal to be sick. If that was what I had to look forward to...

I shook my head. I was better off than they were. This child was a blessing, not a burden, and I had the assurance of a beloved husband. Those girls had no one to turn to, no security, and very little hope. This was preferable.

Erik returned within minutes. "It's safe now," he said, smiling slightly. "No eggs in sight or scent."

"Look at you," I told him, amused and irritated all at once. "Grinning like a Cheshire cat...you'd think you might show more concern while I'm indisposed."

"You'd think," he agreed, "but when I consider why you're indisposed, I can't help but grin, my love. And I'll show my concern right now by taking you to sit outside on the veranda while I cook breakfast."

I smiled myself and he took my hand, guiding me through the house onto the porch just outside the kitchen window. He ushered me onto the wicker chaise and got me a glass of water before going back inside to finish breakfast. I smiled wider as I heard him singing through the open window, recalling the surly genius of the past given to pounding away at the keys of the old organ. It made me laugh to think of it, but Erik had grown quite domestic!

He joined me outside with a tray, laden with crepes, strawberries, toast, tea, and orange juice. "Freshly squeezed," he said, handing me the glass. "It shouldn't bother you, or at least I hope it doesn't."

I took a cautious sip, but there was no nausea and I took a proper drink. He gave me the crepes and berries, taking a slice of toast for himself. "Come on, now, eat up," he urged. "I want the mother of my child to stay healthy."

"Mother," I sighed, picking up my fork. "Just think—in a few months time, we won't have this house to ourselves anymore. We'll have a new inmate here before long. He's sure to be a genius like his father—"

"With his mother's terrible temper," he cut in slyly before biting into his toast.

"And his father's ridiculous sense of humor," I added.

"Actually, I'm positive he'll get that from the both of us," he admitted. "But how do we know he'll even be a 'he?' He might be a little girl after all."

"She might," I agreed, taking another swallow of juice and spitting out stray seeds. "I'll have to show her the right way to strain juice, since her father is useless at it."

"I have no doubt you'll also show her how to burn toast to perfection," he teased.

I snatched up one of the cushions beside me on the lounge and threw it at him. He ducked and said, "See? Terrible, terrible temper."

"Stop being funny," I ordered. "I'm trying to eat my breakfast." I _did _still burn the toast, but Erik was such a good cook himself it didn't matter.

"You're right. I shouldn't make jokes," he said. "I should be as serious and sober as if we were talking of a funeral. Indeed, we _are _talking of a funeral. This will mean the death of our careless ways and our wild debauchery. We'll have to grow up and become responsible adults after all."

"But is that too high a price?" I asked between bites.

"For a child of our own? When I never even dreamed of such for myself? Of course not!"

I had to laugh at his exuberance and felt a tender rush of affection for him that only a warm, blissful smile could express.

* * *

_Erik_

Summer slowly slipped away and autumn came, my first aboveground in years. I marveled at the change I saw coming over the world; I had long forgotten the beauty of the turning leaves and now we were surrounded by flaming gold and burnished russet, caught on the wind and scattered across the park as far as my eye could see. But as much delight as I took in the season, I took even more in the change in Vivienne. The radiance surrounding her was more brilliant than ever, and the vibrant, healthful glow she exuded thrilled me to my soul.

Her morning sickness came and went for those next few weeks, but she insisted on converting one of the spare rooms into a nursery. She fussed and clucked like a mother hen, giving me orders and bossing me around in circles as we worked together to furnish the room next to ours. It was rather adorable, really, to watch my little phoenix ready her nest for her brood.

We watched as the signs of the life she carried became apparent. I was with joy on my part that I first noticed the gentle swell of her stomach—and dismay on hers.

She was rising out of bed one morning and I saw the tell-tale bump through her night gown. I gasped in amazement. "Vivienne!" I exclaimed. "Look at you!"

"What?" she asked. "What is it?"

I couldn't explain in words, I was so delighted, so I simply reached out and put my hand to her belly. "You're growing," I said dazedly.

Her eyes misted over, then she began to cry in earnest.

I was shocked. "What's wrong?"

"No-nothing," she stammered through tears, "if you don't mind that I'm—I'm—getting fat!"

My jaw dropped. "What are you talking about?" I demanded. "You're not getting fat!"

"You just said it!" she wailed, throwing herself back down on the bed. "You said I'm growing!"

"Well, you are," I replied. "Our baby is growing inside you, my phoenix, and now the whole world can see the proof."

Far from calming her, I seemed to be making matters worse. She gave up on speech entirely and broke into even more forceful sobs. I sat dumbstruck for several moments, puzzled as to why she was suddenly so upset and what I should do. She finally looked up at me resentfully through eyes swollen with crying. "So you're just going to sit gawping like a fool?" she demanded. "You're not going to do anything to comfort your distressed wife?"

"I would love to comfort you," I assured her, "but I don't know why you're distressed in the first place, or what would calm you best. Am I allowed a hint?"

"Do you really need one after all this time?" she snapped.

I worked to regain lost ground, promising her I would return shortly and dashing down to the music room to get my violin. I was back at her side in minutes, fluffing the pillows and tucking her into bed again before seating myself for an impromptu concert. I played the same airs that had soothed her nerves in the past, praying we would be so lucky this time.

It worked. She stopped crying shortly, settling back to listen and even venturing to smile before long at the memories I knew would resurface. Here I was again, at her bedside with music to calm her once more. Our life together had really begun with such action, so it was only natural we should return to it now.

After a time I lowered the violin back to my lap and, rather cautiously, asked, "Now what is this I hear about getting fat, little phoenix?"

To my relief she remained sensible and sighed, "It's just that—it's finally struck me that I'm going to be a mother. We're having a baby, Erik! Until now it's only felt like something we were looking forward to, not actually waiting on. And my body is going to change, and I'm so used to being so small I don't know how I'll manage when I'm so much bigger. And—" her eyes filled with tears again and she continued on with a trace of hysteria in her voice, "and I'll never lose all the weight again and I'll end up short and dumpy and labor itself will do things to me; I've always been so proud of my hips, and this baby will make them wider than a wagon, and that's nothing to say of what will happen to my—"

"Vivienne, calm down," I soothed, speaking softly and tenderly. "You're inventing worry where there's none, and it's not good for you. I understand, it's a lot to take in, but I'm here to weather it with you, all right? And I can assure you, you would never end up dumpy, you'd be beautiful even with wide hips, and I'd love you no matter what happened to your—"

She giggled girlishly and I blinked at the sudden change in her manner but otherwise tried to take it in stride. I handed her my violin and said, "Keep yourself amused with that for awhile. I'm off to fix you a large, gluttonous breakfast and then bring it to you, and you're going to eat to your heart's content thinking only of how wonderful it will be when the baby finally comes and not about how you'll turn into a squat little housewife."

She poked me hard with the violin bow and jabbed back, "And I'll be imagining beyond that to when you're a gray-haired, toothless old turtle who is half-deaf and wakes up every two hours in the night to relieve himself."

"You know you'd still be mad over me even then," I replied, smiling.

"Maybe," she said. "It depends on how mad you still are over me."

I kissed her long and slow, running my hand over her belly before drawing away again and saying, "Let me bring you your breakfast, and I'll show you how mad over you I am right now."

"Careful," she warned. "That's how this whole thing happened in the first place, or don't you remember?"

"I may need reminding," I told her, forgoing cooking and climbing back into bed.

* * *

_Vivienne_

I have no idea how I survived incessant mood swings and sudden cravings for strange foods, though thankfully I wasn't getting sick anymore. And when I wasn't angry, frustrated or annoyed with him for no apparent reason, I had to admire how Erik was doing his best to not only cope with it himself, but try to make me feel as comfortable and as easy as possible. He doted on me even when he was losing patience with me and my demands, and I gloried in the attention and cherished his devotion.

While there was a noticeable difference in my typically petite size, I still had quite a bit of growing to do by the time September drew to a close. It was an oddly chilly night, and we sat before the fire together. Some things hadn't changed; I still loved to watch the flames snap and twist in the grate. I turned my head after a quarter hour's silent contemplation and saw Erik, seated beside me and fast asleep.

I smiled to myself. I had been more of a harridan than usual that day and nearly run him off his feet as he tried to keep me happy, and I supposed I had exhausted him. I traced the line of his jaw with my fingertips and kissed him ever so lightly before scooting closer and cuddling next to him.

My slight stirring was enough to rouse him and he opened his eyes and asked, "What is it, little phoenix? What do you need?"

"Nothing," I replied. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

"No, it's fine, I'm already awake," he told me. He moved his hand to my stomach. In a few short weeks, I had come to look like I was smuggling a small pumpkin under my dress, and while I was still prone to occasional tears when I saw how big I was getting, the adoration in those golden eyes was enough to make me melt. He stretched himself out on the sofa and rested his head in my lap, his ear against my belly. "Do you think it's too early to hear a heartbeat in there?" he asked.

"I don't know," I replied honestly. "I sometimes think I hear it, but it's only ever just me imagining it. I'll let you know the instant it's a sure thing."

He took my hand and traced the lines on my palm and the scar on my wrist. He kissed the latter tenderly before saying, "I wonder whether it's a boy or a girl."

We had canvassed this subject so much already, but we couldn't leave it alone. "You know we'll have to think of a name eventually," I said, caressing his features with my free hand. "For a boy, what about...Jean?"

"We're not giving my son any run-of-the-mill name," he informed me. "There are thousands of men named Jean."

"But only one will be ours," I reminded him.

"It's still a no," he said. "But what about a name for a girl? What do you think of, say, Josephine?"

"You would name our daughter after the empress?" I demanded. "She would either grow up conceited or convinced she could never live up to her namesake."

He waved that aside. "She'll grow up conceited anyway, with the two of us as parents. And who gives a damn about her namesake? She'll outshine every woman on earth the moment she's born."

"No swearing around the baby," I rebuked, then asked, "Would she ever outshine me?"

He gave me a questioning look. "Are you jealous of your own child, my phoenix?" he asked.

"Well, no," I said. "But—" I ran a hand over my swelling stomach. "Even after this, would you still think me beautiful?"

"How many times must I say yes?" he inquired gently.

"At least one more," I answered. "Would you still think me desirable?"

"God, yes," he vowed. "How could I not?"

I shifted my hand back to his face, outlining the shape of his lips with my fingers. "Do you think me desirable now?" I asked softly.

"Darling, I've never stopped thinking you desirable," he said. "Indeed, I think you so desirable it's causing me to suffer tremendously."

"And why don't you end your suffering?" I asked, pitching my voice low and provocative.

"Well, I have once or twice," he told me, "but—oh," he ended, catching the look on my face. "Vivienne, are you sure? You've been a little...fragile, lately."

"I won't fall apart on you, if that's what you're worried about," I answered. He hesitated again and I went on peevishly, "You do desire me, don't you?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"Well then, what are you waiting for? Make love to me."

"You want me to?"

"You think I would bring it up if I didn't?" I demanded, already unbuttoning his clothes. "Trust me, Erik, I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," I told him. I reached out and slid a hand into his trousers, massaging him with my fingers and feeling him harden under my attentions. He let me continue for a moment, then sat upright and cast off his shirt before turning around and beginning to undress me. I helped him along, pausing every now and then to lay kisses to his lips, chest, and collarbone. Every nerve in my body was alive with need. I wanted to feel beautiful, like my old self, and only he could do that for me.

We both stood to discard the last of our clothes and he drew me to him—somewhat awkwardly, as my girth came between us. I didn't feel properly close to him with the bulk of my belly in the way, but he still lifted me easily and set me back on the sofa, perched on the edge of the cushions. I leaned back languidly and he covered me with kisses, from my forehead on down to my stomach where our baby grew. I draped one leg over his shoulder and angled the other to give him a clear road, letting out a delighted sigh when his next kiss fell right where I wanted him. "I love it when you do that," I said.

"I know," he replied, drawing away momentarily and resting his cheek against my bare leg before kissing me again and tasting me with his tongue.

The sensations were so much more powerful than they'd ever been before. Rapturous laughter and mewls of pleasure rang from my lips as he teased and delighted me, his motions skilled and unerring. A particularly high-pitched cry burst from me and he caressed my thigh without ceasing his ministrations. I reached out and covered his hand with mine, my fingers tightening over his wrist as the ecstasy within me climbed higher and higher. _Just a little more, now—_

Passion broke over me and I gave a violent shudder of release before sliding from the sofa and kneeling in front of him. He smiled deviously and I pushed him back to lay on the hearth rug. Without wasting time on speech, I straddled him and guided him into me—_oh_,_ I'll never get tired of this—_then I began to move, feeling him move with me. My breath came in shallow gasps as I felt the pleasure build again, compelling me to move even faster. The muscles of my legs burned and ached, but I couldn't stop, I didn't want to stop...oh God, oh God, it was so good...

I leaned forward, laying my palms on his chest and my hair spilling loose over my shoulders. My moans were timed perfectly with each thrust—my limbs were tingling—God, I couldn't take much more—

"Erik!" I screamed, ascending and falling as I reached my limit and went over the edge. "Erik!" I felt as though it might kill me, it was so overwhelming and so wonderful...it was simply perfect...

A lump came to my throat and tears filled my eyes, and I fell forward onto him like a puppet with severed strings, crying like a helpless child.

"Vivienne!" he exclaimed urgently, and I was lucid enough to realize he still hadn't peaked yet.

"I'm sorry!" I cried. "I'm sorry, Erik!"

"For what?" he asked, his voice tense and his body rigid.

"I don't—don't even know," I sobbed. "I just l-love you so—much and you're—you're so good to me and—I don't—deserve you, you're just so—so wonderful—" I couldn't stop talking or control my tears or even catch my breath. I felt ridiculous and embarrassed amid the sense of content completion brought on by my climax.

He wound his arms around me and carefully rolled us over, cradling me gently and softly crooning in my ear, "It's all right, little phoenix. Go ahead and cry. I'm right here, I've got you."

He was so good to me...

My tears eventually subsided and he kissed my nose. "Do you feel better?" he asked.

I nodded. "I'm sorry," I repeated, ashamed of the outburst and conscious of the fact that we were still joined together. "I can keep going now, to give you a chance to finish."

"No, don't worry about it," he told me, and I was touched by the gesture. He drew away and scooped me up, laying me on the sofa and covering me with a blanket. "You just rest easy," he said, stroking my hair.

I sighed and closed my eyes. He was so good to me...and he was going to make a wonderful father soon...

**Part Two to come tomorrow!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Erik_

Winter came, and with it came Vivienne's lamentations that she would be unable to dance in the snow this year. The difference a few months had made in her figure was prodigious, and she was more sensitive about it than ever. In lieu of dancing, she consented to walks outside through the frozen garden and ice-sheathed trees with me, summoning the spunk to stoop laboriously, gather a handful of slush and powder, and launch the occasional snowball at me when I wasn't looking. I told her it was terribly unsporting of her since I couldn't retaliate against her in her condition, but it only made her laugh.

We looked forward to our first Christmas in our new house, making expeditions outside to choose a tree and hauling it back into the sitting room to decorate. The stormy days kept us inside most of the time, and it felt so much more comfortable to be snowed in together than to be holed up in the Opera catacombs, I had to admit. A glimpse at the drifts piling up outside and the leaden skies above us through the window made me appreciate our fireside all the more, and while we were alone together in our corner of the earth, it certainly wasn't lonely.

Christmas Eve night saw us in the music room, the candles reflecting off the wide windows and the winter night surrounding us. I'd begun to teach Vivienne to play the piano while we were snowbound, as it kept us both occupied and she had less emotional meltdowns while she could focus on something. It was an easier task than teaching her the violin had been, but she still loved to argue with me and dispute my methods.

She sat beside me on the bench, her face set in concentration as her hands moved along the keyboard, the left striking one chord after another while the right plucked out the melody line. Her gaze flicked back and forth between the keys and the music set in front of her and her fingering was slow and deliberate, but she made fewer mistakes the longer she played. I watched her wordlessly, nodding to myself every now and then and trying not to laugh at her stern, serious expression. She came to the end of the piece and sighed. "Still less than perfect."

"But much better than last time," I replied. "Skill comes with practice, Vivienne, you know that."

"I know," she grumbled. "But I want to get it right _now."_

"Then by all means, play it again," I told her. "One more try, then we'll stop for the day." I pretended not to notice when she cracked her knuckles and listened as she began to play. She was halfway through when she suddenly broke off with a small gasp. "Erik!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"What is it?" I asked, confused and a bit concerned at her manner.

"The baby!" she said.

I felt a jolt of alarm. "Is something wrong?"

"No," she told me. "He just—he moved! I felt him kick!"

My eyes moved to her stomach. "That's normal, right?" I asked. "That's supposed to happen?"

"So I've heard," she replied breathlessly, putting her hand to her belly. "Oh, Erik," she sighed. "This is amazing...give me your hand."

"What?" I said, suddenly shy and nervous.

"Give me your hand." She reached out and grasped my wrist, guiding me along and placing my hand flat against her stomach. "Do you feel that?" she asked.

At first there was nothing, not the slightest movement. I looked back at her and there was such bliss in those green eyes that I felt ashamed I couldn't feel what she did. Then, so faintly I thought I might have imagined it, there was a gentle pressure against my palm. I nearly drew away in surprise but then I felt it again, the tiny stirrings of life nestled deep in her womb.

"Do you feel it?" she repeated.

So great was my amazement and wonder that speech evaded me. I could only stare wide-eyed at her, and she smiled. "We did that," she told me. "We created that little one together. Isn't that incredible?"

I nodded, a bubble of joy and pride swelling in my chest. I bent down and kissed our child, then straightened and kissed his mother, wrapping my arms around her and rocking her back and forth. "Can you believe it, little phoenix?" I asked. "It's barely two years since we first spoke, and now look at us! Married, a home of our own, looking forward to our first child—"

"First?" she laughed. "This one's not even properly arrived yet, and you're already planning on more?"

"Well, of course, dear girl," I replied. "He's going to need lots of brothers and sisters to keep him company, and we'll need lots of little prodigies to finish comprising our private family orchestra. Don't you agree?"

"It's a grand scheme to be sure," she said, "but let's take it one prodigy at a time, shall we?"

"We still need a name for this one," I continued. "We've only got a few months left to decide, Vivienne. We need to get a move on."

"Erik, we've been over hundreds, if not thousands of names!" she told me. "We can't agree on a single one!"

"Then let's..." I cast around for a compromise. "We'll win the pleasure of choosing."

"Win?"

"A contest. We'll play for it."

"Like old times," she grinned. "And since you issued the challenge, I get to pick what it entails. Violins, monsieur, and as for the music...I think _Clair de Lune_ will do nicely."

I sighed. "Darling, you know I rather admire Debussy, but I thought you'd choose something a little more challenging. If you want to throw away your chance at naming our first child, go ahead, but—"

She elbowed me in the ribs. "Meet me in the sitting room, monsieur," she ordered. "I'd like to be comfortable for our contest." She tossed her fiery hair arrogantly and stood, strolling from the room with as much swagger as she was capable while bearing her extra weight.

I smiled after her and collected the violins before following her. She had already settled into her favorite place on the sofa, a pillow tucked behind her to support her back and her feet propped up on a footstool. She watched the fire in the grate as was her way, smiling to herself and caressing her belly. I stood in the doorway drinking in the picture before my eyes, wondering if she could feel the baby stirring again and causing her to smile that way. It was a sweet sight, and I wanted it burned forever into my memory.

After several moments of silence, I entered the room and handed her her violin. "What took you so long?" she asked.

"Nothing in particular," I replied, dropping onto the opposite end of the sofa. "I was just thinking that it will be a cold day in Hell before I ever get tired of watching you when you think I'm not looking."

"Erik, no swearing around the baby," she chided, tuning up.

"You don't even know if he can hear me," I said. "And even if he can, he's far too young to understand what Hell means. And if you want to be fussy, Hell isn't even foul language, it's a proper name for a real place."

"Well, stop being fussy, at any rate," she bossed. "Are you ready?"

I set my instrument on my shoulder and raised my bow. "I'm ready when you are, my phoenix."

She nodded, and we began.

The melody was flowing and lyrical, rising around us and sounding sweet as a lullaby. I could have played it in my sleep, but I was glad it was so effortless, as it left me free to continue watching my lovely Vivienne. She closed her eyes and swayed slightly with the music; she was almost as good as me by now. I saw her merge with everything: the melody, her violin, the general air of delight and expectation that hung over our home. Then I saw her smile that smile again, and I just knew she was feeling our child within her once more. They were all united, and they'd never been so beautiful.

We had nearly finished the piece, but that smile was too tempting to resist. I set my violin aside and flung myself to my knees at her feet. "I forfeit," I told her, leaning up to kiss her before putting my hands to her stomach. "You win. You name the baby. Name every child we might have, and settle on any ridiculous, outlandish, or boring name you like. Just let me feel him move again."

"I can't make him move, Erik," she laughed, laying down her own instrument. "He was quite active a few moments ago. I think he liked the music."

"Well, he ought to like music, considering the stock he's from," I replied. "It's in his blood, you know."

She smiled down at me and put her hands over mine. "I love you," she said.

"I love you, too, Vivienne. I love both of you."

The grandfather clock in the foyer struck eleven. I sighed and told her, "You should really get to bed. You need your sleep."

"Only as long as you come with me," she replied.

"Of course, _mon amour_. As you wish."

We went upstairs, and soon we were settled beside each other in our bed. I reached out to stroke her hair and she let out a drowsy sigh. "Merry Christmas, Erik."

"Merry Christmas, Vivienne." I kissed her gently on the nose, but she had already fallen asleep.

* * *

_Vivienne_

January was dismal and February didn't begin much better. I could hardly get around the house anymore, my back ached terribly from the extra weight, and while I knew good and well I would miss the little companion I had shared my body with for the past nine months, I just wanted him to hurry up and arrive already!

We'd been expecting his entrance into the world for several days when I felt sharp shooting pains in my body. I'd been forced to wait alone while Erik went to fetch the midwife we'd arranged to deliver the baby. She only lived a couple of miles away, so it was preferable to rushing into Paris and combing the length and breadth of the city in search of a doctor. And while Erik had at first worried she would prove to be a superstitious old crone from the country, we'd found Mme. Fontaine to be of a more practical, matter-of-fact nature; we were thus reassured that if the baby happened to look like Erik, she wouldn't be too...drastic.

Erik had returned with her, and after a brief examination she'd informed me that I'd only felt false labor pains and that the baby probably wouldn't arrive for a few more days yet. Needless to say, the news didn't go far in improving my mood. My patience had worn thin, and I'd never been so bad-tempered in my life.

I sat at the table one morning staring distastefully at my breakfast. I'd barely slept the night before, my ankles had swollen again, and I was so annoyed it was giving me a stomachache.

Erik glanced at me from across the table. "Not hungry this morning?" he asked.

"Not hardly," I replied. "And I was up half the night, too. I just couldn't get comfortable. I swear to God, if this little urchin doesn't get here fast, I'm going to reach in and pull him out myself."

He winced. "Try to avoid that if possible," he advised. "It sounds painful."

"You're telling me?" I asked. "And it will be even more painful before it's over. It hurts just thinking about it."

"It hurts? Right now?" he asked, alarmed. "Do you think this is it? Should I get Mme. Fontaine?"

"Oh, why bother? She'll only tell me it's false labor again and that I'll have to wait some more—"

"I'm serious, Vivienne. How bad is this pain?"

"It's not that bad," I assured him. "It was worse last time, and last time nothing happened. I'm—"I hissed through clenched teeth as a spasm tore through me. _That_was more painful than the last time.

"Don't lie to me and tell me that was nothing," he told me. "It's getting worse, isn't it?"

I nodded.

He rose from the table. "I'm going to get the midwife," he said. "I swear, I won't be long."

"Hurry," I entreated. "I don't want to be alone."

"You won't be," he promised. "Can you make it upstairs back to bed?"

"I think so."

"Good. Let me help you."

We left the table and made our way through the house and up the stairs. The pains—I soon felt confident in calling them contractions—came a little sooner every time, but they were still several minutes apart. Erik got me safely back into bed and turned to leave for Mme. Fontaine. He hesitated in the doorway of our bedroom and I knew he was as reluctant to leave me as I was to let him, but we had little choice in the matter. He hurried back to my side, gave me one last kiss, then sped from the room.

I waited there alone, lying in bed and falling prey to stronger and more frequent pain. After a time I felt the sheets dampen around me as my water broke, and I knew for certain that this was it. Whether I was ready or not, the baby was coming.

I started to panic as the contractions intensified and there was still no sign of Erik. In the gaps between the pain, I had time to reflect that we would soon be parents, and the knowledge at once delighted and terrified me. Was I really ready to be a mother? What if something went wrong during delivery? And where was Erik? Shouldn't he have returned by now?

A contraction made me feel I was being ripped apart, and I cried out. "God, help me! Erik, where are you?"

"I'm here, little phoenix."

I focused my eyes and saw him in the doorway with Mme. Fontaine, the midwife. He came to my side at once, brushing my hair off my sweaty forehead. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"No!" I replied. "Oh God, it hurts!"

Mme. Fontaine bustled over to examine me, bending my knees and positioning my legs. "There's still time yet," she told me. "This little one won't be here right away."

I groaned loudly.

Erik took my hand and squeezed it. "It'll be fine, Vivienne," he said. "There's no need to worry."

"Really?" I demanded. "Do you want to switch places, then?"

"You know I would if it were possible."

"Of course you say that, since it's _not _possible," I snapped.

"Are they always like this?" he asked Mme. Fontaine.

"Most of them are, monsieur," she replied. She paid no attention to Erik's face, and he didn't seem troubled by the absence of his mask in her presence. He hadn't worn it since we moved in, and except for a surprised expression when we first met her, Mme. Fontaine hadn't behaved as though there was anything unusual about Erik's face. "You might as well sit down. We'll probably be here awhile."

He sat down next to me on the edge of the bed and continued to hold my hand, doing his best to soothe me when more contractions came. My grip grew tighter and tighter until eventually he flinched and exclaimed, "Damn it, Vivienne, I know you're in pain, but have some compassion on my fingers!"

"No swearing around the baby!" I told him. "And whatever happened to switching places? You think a few bruised knuckles compares to this?"

"I'm not certain if anything compares to that," he said. "At least, nothing I'm likely to experience."

"Then I'll just tell Mme. Fontaine to give you a kick in the balls and see how you feel about it!"

"Now, wait a second!" he exclaimed. "What good would it possibly do you to assault me in the gentleman's region like that?"

"Don't worry, monsieur," Mme. Fontaine assured him. "They _all _tend to think it does them good."

I let out another cry and she lifted the bed sheet off my legs and over my knees. "It's time," she announced. "Maybe you'd like to leave, monsieur? The husbands don't do so well during the labor."

He shook his head. "I'm staying here," he said, but I heard his voice shake slightly and his grip on my hand was a bit less steady. He was just as scared as I was, but he wouldn't abandon me or the baby, and I gave his hand another squeeze to tell him how grateful I was—though I feared the message was lost in translation as a contraction hit a moment later and I gave a shout.

"Just keep breathing," Mme. Fontaine instructed, "and push when I tell you."

Push? How the hell was I supposed to do that when my entire body was being...ripped? Squeezed? I couldn't describe the feeling, other than by saying it fucking hurt!

There was an intense pressure deep down and I nearly began to panic again, but Erik held my hand tighter and said, "Just breathe, Vivienne, deep breaths. We can get through this together."

I struggled to calm down, breathing deeply and giving him a nod. This was it...our lives were about to change...

"All right, Madame," the midwife said, "push!"

The world was about to end, I was sure of it. It couldn't possibly continue on through this—pain! Pain! There was no room for anything else and no memory of time without it! "I can't do this!" I screamed.

"Yes, you can, little phoenix," Erik assured me. "I know you can."

"Here's the head," Mme. Fontaine told us.

"You see the baby?" I gasped.

"The head, at least," she repeated.

"Show me," Erik demanded, darting to her side. I was nearly blind with the pain, but I could distinctly see him, my husband, the infamous Phantom of the Opera, on the verge of fainting.

"Try not to pass out, monsieur," Mme. Fontaine said. "I have my hands full at the moment with your wife."

"Our child," he said dazedly. "That's our child..."

"Not yet, it isn't. Push again, Madame, as hard as you can."

More pain, more agony, would it ever stop? I felt as though I was losing consciousness when finally-it was over. I heard a pair of newborn lungs hard at work, screaming and crying. Then there was Mme. Fontaine's voice, "It's a boy."

"My God!" Erik burst out. "Vivienne!"

"What is it?" I asked breathlessly. Did he look...

"He's perfect," he gasped, and I heard the catch in his voice that heralded tears. "Vivienne, he's perfect!"

"Let me see him!"

Mme. Fontaine cleaned him up, wrapped him in a blanket, and laid him in my arms. The instant I saw his sweet little face, pink and wrinkled and flawless, even without the eyes of a mother...how can I explain it? My heart suddenly felt larger, too large for my chest to contain it. It would have to spill out and surround him, my son, so he would always know how desperately and completely I loved him. "Look at him," I said, about to cry myself. "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"

Erik didn't answer, and I looked up to see him watching us with tears pouring down his face.

I was about to speak again when there was another contraction like a runaway horse. "What's happening?" I exclaimed.

"I thought as much," Mme. Fontaine said. "You'd better take your son, monsieur. It's twins."

"What?" Erik and I shouted together.

"Twins. The other one should be coming any minute now."

"You mean I have to do all that again?" I cried as Erik took the baby from me and held him, looking terrified and overjoyed at the same time.

"You made it the first time," he said encouragingly and slightly manically, just as frantic as I was. "It'll be all right."

I didn't know if I was furious, ecstatic, or just plain hysterical. "Son of a bi—"

"No swearing around the baby!"

"Erik, shut the fu—" I broke off, screaming. There was no way I could survive it again; I was going to die while bringing our second child into the world only minutes after the first was born. I felt like I was walking down a dark tunnel, leaving Mme. Fontaine's instructions and Erik's words of support further and further behind me. There had to be light somewhere at the far end...It couldn't go on forever..._God, please don't let it go on forever_...I didn't know how much longer I could go on...

"It's a girl."

I burst out sobbing in relief, thanking Heaven it was over, and when Mme. Fontaine gave me our daughter and I saw her round, rosy face, I began to laugh and I couldn't stop, grateful that our children wouldn't have to suffer like their father had because they looked different. "Erik!" I said. "Look at her! Look at them both!"

"I know!" he crowed.

"Congratulations," Mme. Fontaine said. "I'll leave you alone to get acquainted with each other." She left the bedroom after helping me change into a clean dress and putting fresh sheets on the bed. Erik and I sat side by side, each holding an infant.

"It would be our luck to be landed with two at once," I told him.

He nodded. "Twice the fun, twice the love..." he said.

"Twice the chaos," I added.

"Well, that's a given," he agreed, "but it'll also be twice the adventure."

I smiled and looked down at our babies. "I hope you're happy with two, because I'm never doing that again. Ever."

"Oh, it can't have been that bad," he teased.

"_Ever_," I repeated.

"Don't exaggerate, darling," he grinned.

We both had our arms full with the newborns, or I would have elbowed him in the ribs. He knew it was on my mind, because he grinned even wider then said, "A deal's a deal, little phoenix. You get to name the first one."

"Actually, I recall you forfeiting the chance to name either one," I teased back. "I can choose any ridiculous, outlandish, or boring name I like."

"Now, you won't hold me to that, will you?"

I beamed again at our children and said, "You caught me in a charitable moment. I get to name him, and you can have the privilege of naming her."

"Fair enough," he replied. He was quiet for several minutes, then said, "Thank you, Vivienne."

"For what?" I asked.

"For this," he said, nodding to the twins. "You just gave me two children when I never expected even one."

"Well, you did have a hand in it."

"Exactly. I would never have even had a chance at a family if not for you. No one else would have—no one else ever—" He stopped, unable to continue.

I rested my head on his shoulder and he leaned down to press a kiss to my temple. "Erik?"

"Yes, Vivienne?"

"I'm tired."

"Well, you've earned the right to be. Go ahead and sleep. I fear we won't be getting much of it for awhile."

I sighed and leaned against him, still holding our daughter. The last thing I saw before I closed my eyes was Erik cradling our son in his arms and the last thing I heard before I fell asleep was him humming softly for the three of us.

* * *

_Erik_

We were both awakened in the middle of the night by an insistent wail. I heard Vivienne sigh heavily and say, "There he goes. It's your turn."

"That's his hungry cry," I reminded her without even opening my eyes, "and I'd be rather useless to him in that regard."

She sighed again and I felt her get out of bed, but it wasn't five seconds later that a second cry joined the first. "And that's her," she said. "You have to get up after all."

Resigned to my fate, I rose and followed her into the next room. The twins were awake and both were crying loudly in their cradles. As a musician, I admired the power of their three-month-old lungs and looked forward to when I could train them to harness that power into song. As a father, I was anxious to soothe them and calm them again, no matter how long it took. And as a rather sleep-deprived individual, I sincerely hoped it wouldn't take long.

Vivienne went to Rene, lifted him in her arms, and carried him to the rocking chair by the window, settling down to nurse. I scooped up Annelise and walked the nursery floor with her, humming a lullaby to quiet her. It had been a rough week, as both infants had contracted whooping cough, but things were just beginning to settle back into their usual routine. Ren would wake up for a nighttime feeding that Annelise would sometimes sleep through, only to wake up later for _her _feeding. Even I was feeling drained lately, and I knew it was nothing to how exhausted Vivienne was.

I glanced at her and saw her struggling not to fall asleep again even as our son suckled at her breast. Poor thing...she'd proven to be a wonderful, if not fretful, mother already. She could soothe both twins without any effort at all, she doted on them with all her soul, and when they'd been sick she cared for them around the clock, heedless of her own tiredness. She really was like a mother hen with her chicks.

I sighed. It worried me that she got so little rest and so little time to herself. Every waking minute was devoted to the twins, and they were the object of her every thought. I tried to be reasonable and say that was how it should be, but I felt like I was living with a different person sometimes. There was the Vivienne of yesteryear who was so full of life and energy, and then there was this Vivienne, the woman whose soul had burned so bright and now had reduced to a dull glow. "Are you all right?" I asked quietly so as not to disturb the babies.

She snapped to attention, on the verge of dozing off. "Hm? Oh, yes. Of course I am."

"You look tired."

"Well, I _feel _tired." She sighed and moved Ren to her shoulder, patting him on the back until he gave a tiny burp. She stood again, rocking him in her arms to get him back to sleep.

"Here, I'll do that," I told her, laying the now-sleeping Annelise back in her cradle and taking Ren. "Go on to bed and get some sleep."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Vivienne, I think I can be trusted to look after my own son for ten minutes," I replied.

She hesitated, still reluctant to leave, but I shooed her off and she went back to bed.

I set Ren on my shoulder and walked the floor with him. "We'll be fine on our own for awhile, won't we?" I asked him softly. "We'll show your mother how well we get along."

He fidgeted slightly and I kept talking to him in a low, gentle voice. Ren wasn't like Annelise, and he couldn't be made easy with a simple lullaby. The only thing that calmed him as well as his mother's embrace was our conversations, father to son. Granted, he couldn't actually take part in the conversation, but he was, ahem, the scion of a genius, and I knew he drank in every word and understood what I was telling him.

"You know, you've got the best mother in the world," I said. "And you'll probably look more like her than your sister will, to be honest. You're definitely going to have her temper." Ren did look a great deal like Vivienne. What little hair he had was very red, and he had her eyes-well, for the most part. Their shape was the same and I had a feeling they would have the same mischievous twinkle when he was older, but while one was her vivid green, the other was my glowing yellow. I finally got a sense of what it must be like to run across me in the dark when I saw him, because it had taken me an entire month to get used to that one burning light that greeted me when I entered the nursery at night. It was quite the surprise, and very intriguing indeed...And while Annelise had beautiful manners and was a well-behaved little darling, Ren was as moody and feisty as his mother, though I suppose I deserved some of the credit for his temperament.

Annelise had blonde hair, though Vivienne predicted it would darken to my light brown eventually. Her eyes were yellow as well, but they didn't glow so much as shine. She had the brightest, sweetest nature imaginable and it was like looking at the sun when I looked at her; she had that warm, nurturing air about her. If she had any faults, I guessed she would lean towards complacency that would overstep the boundaries of reason once or twice. It was far too early to see if she had any musical inclinations, but she always listened intently whenever I sang for her, so I took that as a promising sign.

Ren soon went back to sleep, and I put him to bed before following Vivienne to our own. I had expected her to already be asleep again, but she wasn't even in bed, pacing the floor anxiously and looking up the instant I entered the room. "Is he all right?" she asked. "Did he get to sleep again? You know he hasn't slept well all week—"

"He's fine, little phoenix," I told her, laying my hands on her shoulders and kissing her on the forehead. "He's asleep; they both are."

"But Annelise will wake up soon," she protested. "She'll need her feeding—"

"And in the meantime, _you _need to get back to sleep. You haven't slept at all the past few days, and the twins need you strong and healthy—"

"They need me, period, Erik," she told me. "I can't afford to be selfish—"

"You can't afford not to take some time to look after yourself. You're no good to them in this state. Look at you! You can hardly stand, you're so exhausted! I want you to spend a day or two getting plenty of rest and recovering your strength. I'll look after the twins."

"But Erik—"

"No buts, Vivienne. I'm more than capable of caring for our children. In fact, if I came equipped with such perfect breasts as yours, they'd have virtually two mothers."

She swayed slightly, then sat down on the edge of the bed. "If that were the case," she said, "then they wouldn't need me at all."

I frowned and sat beside her. "What do you mean?"

She shook her head as if reluctant to speak, but went on slowly, "For nine months I carried them inside me, and they depended on me for everything. Everything. My purpose in life was to give them life. I ate for them, breathed for them—literally ate and breathed for them. Now they have lives of their own, and they don't need me as much, and as they keep growing they'll need me less and less, until one day they won't need me at all."

"They're only three months old, Vivienne," I told her. "I think they'll need you for a good while yet."

"Don't tease me! I just never imagined how much I would need them. They depend on me for survival, but they are my survival. Even now, when I know they're only in the next room, I actually miss them. Miss them!"

"It's all right, Vivienne, you're just tired—"

"No, it's ridiculous that I can't even sleep when they're out of my sight! How pathetic is that?"

"I don't think it's pathetic at all," I replied. "I only wish my own mother had cared about me so much."

She paused, then sighed. "Erik, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to remind you—"

"No, it's all right," I assured her, "really, it is. I can't tell you how glad I am that our children have a mother so violently and dramatically in love with them."

"You're teasing me again!"

"I'm not, I'm being perfectly serious. You don't know how much it means to me."

She sighed again and leaned her head against my shoulder. "But why are you so standoffish with them?" she asked. "You've seemed so reluctant to get near them at times."

"On the contrary, mother hen. I've been reluctant to get in your way as you've commandeered the care of them all to yourself. And I'll admit, sometimes I have been worried I won't be half the father to them as you are the mother. You set the bar so high, my dear."

"Well, it's about time there was something I could best you at," she replied, taking her turn to tease me. "Though I don't know what you're talking about, to tell the truth. You'd be a wonderful father if you weren't so shy."

"Shy, am I?" I asked, putting my arms around her and drawing her to me. I ran a hand down the length of her body and laid a long, deep kiss to her lips before adding, "I'll have to prove otherwise, won't I?"

"I thought I was exhausted."

"You are, but this will help you sleep." I lowered her back onto the bed and continued to kiss her, raining adoration down upon the body she was still so insecure about after birthing our beautiful children. I took those perfect breasts in my hands and I caressed those hips she'd been so proud of and still had every reason to be. Reaching even further, I caught the hem of her night gown and drew it up—

The sound of a crying child broke in and we both let out sighs of disappointment. "That would be Annelise," she said, pushing me aside and rising from the bed. Ren hadn't woken, so there was no need for me to follow her, but I did anyway to keep her company.

"I mean it," I told her as she sat nursing our daughter. "I don't want you to lift a finger tomorrow. I'll take care of the babies; you just take care of yourself."

"Erik, where in the world would I be without you to look after me?" she asked, smiling slightly.

"I have no idea," I told her. "There's times when I have to ask myself the same question about you."

**Conclusion to come tomorrow! *sniff***


	3. Chapter 3

**Last bit...now maybe I can finally let this thi****ng go...**

_Vivienne  
_

I made my way down the hall, following the sounds of the piano into the music room. I opened the door and paused to absorb the sight before me—my beautiful family, Erik seated before the instrument with Annelise in his lap, guiding her little hands over the keys as he taught her to play, and Rene on the floor beside them paying no mind to the music but absorbed in building a castle with wooden blocks and other tools he'd collected. I sighed. They had grown so much in four years. "All right, that's enough for now," I said, speaking over the music. "It's time for lunch."

"Just a little longer?" Annelise begged, still concentrating so hard her tiny face was flushed and glowing. Her hair had darkened from pale flax into honey gold, shining like the sun in the long braid she liked to wear it in. "Papa, can we wait for lunch?"

My heart sank. _Not again..._

"Surely just a few more minutes, Vivienne," he chimed in, focusing intently on our daughter's progress. He glanced up to see my face set in earnest and gave in. "Very well, chicks, you heard your mother. Go wash."

Annelise pouted slightly but otherwise left the room with good grace. Ren sighed heavily and abandoned his toys, turning to Erik and asking, "Can I come back after lunch, Papa?"

"Of course you can," he replied immediately. "Go on, get to the table." He ushered Ren into the hall and looked back at me. "Why so serious, mother hen?" he asked.

"You don't even realize what you're doing, do you?" I countered, folding my arms across my chest. "You almost undermined what I said—again—to give them what they wanted."

He still looked blank. "And?"

"They worship you, Erik. You're their best friend in the whole world."

"Well, I try," he said jokingly, smiling slightly.

"It's not funny. They run to you for everything because they know you'll give them anything they ask for. Then when they step out of line, you leave me to do the scolding and the reprimanding. I spanked Ren for climbing up the wrong side of the banister yesterday, and do you know what he said to me?"

"I can't imagine," he replied.

"'Papa lets me do it,'" I told him. "It wasn't the spanking that upset him, Erik; you know that boy has more heart than both of us put together. He actually burst into tears thinking that I must not love him as much as you do because I don't let him get away with everything like you do. And it's the same way with Annelise as well."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Vivienne," he said, brushing the information aside. "They know you're wild about them."

"Erik, you're like the fairy godfather that makes all their dreams come true, and I'm the evil witch that spoils everything! You're there for all the good times, but the instant it's time to be responsible for once you're never around! You can't leave me to do all the raising by myself!"

"Keep your voice down," he cautioned, looking past me to see where the twins were. "Don't shout like that."

"If I were shouting, you'd know it," I snapped. "I don't think you take your duty as a father seriously."

"I take it very seriously, Vivienne," he told me, fixing me with a hard stare. "Don't ever doubt that."

"Sometimes I can't help but," I shot back. "It's hard not to every time you foist the less pleasant tasks off on me, like disciplining them when they break rules set down for their own good."

"They're only children! You can't be so hard on them!"

"They need a guiding hand, Erik! They have to understand there are things they just can't do and consequences for doing them!"

"If you try to control everything they do, they'll resent it and grow to flout any and all authority, and to hell with the consequences!"

I bit back an annoyed exclamation. "How many times have I asked you not to swear in front of the children?" I demanded.

He disregarded this with a snort. "They're not even listening, and I don't swear in front of them."

In the kitchen, we heard a muffled crash and a cry. Dispute forgotten, we both raced down the hall to see what was wrong, and found Annelise on the floor along with the remains of the stew I'd made for lunch. Ren stood wide-eyed beside her, and an overturned stool sat where it had rolled several feet away.

We were both at her side in an instant. "Are you all right? You're not hurt, are you?" We looked her over to see if she'd been scalded or burned or otherwise injured.

"I'm not hurt," she said petulantly. "I was trying to taste the stew, and the damn stool fell out from under me."

I paused, staring at Erik. "And where did she learn _that_ word?" I asked.

He avoided answering and asked her, "Haven't we told you not to go near the stove? You could have been seriously hurt!"

"I'm sorry, Papa," she said, then added, "but you let me yesterday."

My last nerve snapped. Satisfied that my daughter was unharmed, I got to my feet and said, "There it is, right there. The fairy godfather."

"Don't give me that, Vivienne," he argued. "I was right beside her to watch her the whole time yesterday."

"No, it's all right," I told him. "I'm getting quite used to it by now."

"Vivienne—"

"No! I'm tired of being the only adult in this house! Our children need a father, Erik, not just another playmate!"

"And what am I supposed to be, if not their father?" he stormed.

"You tell me," I said, my voice rising along with his. "You're certainly not much of a parent to them! This is why I say you don't take it seriously!"

"Vivienne, don't you dare insinuate I don't care for my children!"

"Then start _caring_ for them, damn it, and don't make me do all the work!"

"My goodness," he mocked, "I wonder where Annelise learned _that_ word!"

"Why, you—"

"Maman, please stop yelling," Annelise pleaded, tears filling her golden eyes. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again."

I stopped, looking down at her on the floor, her arms wrapped around Erik's neck and her face turned to me in miserable supplication. I glanced at Ren, still frozen in place and serious as if something terrible had happened. I felt ashamed of myself.

Kneeling down beside them, I drew Annelise from Erik and held her to me. She resisted at first, then buried her face in my shoulder. "I'm sorry, _mon cher_," I told her. "I didn't mean to yell. You just scared Maman, is all. I thought you might have hurt yourself."

"I'm fine, Maman."

"I know, sweetheart, I know." I kissed her forehead and said, "You know I love you, right?"

She nodded.

I turned to Ren, his red hair sticking out in all directions as usual and his oddly paired eyes glowing like his father's. "And you, my boy? You know I love you?"

"Yes, Maman," he replied.

I nodded, then got some cold beef from the pantry along with bread and butter. Erik and I set the twins down to eat before cleaning up the stew, and I disappeared back into the music room alone.

I sighed as I took in the instruments and the music, remembering every detail of when I first stepped into this room years ago. Things had seemed easier somehow back then, when it was just the two of us and we had our lives ahead of us. I leaned against the piano and caressed the cool wood. This was the very first place we had made love in our new home, and our heads had been so full of dreams. What had happened to us? It was like we weren't even husband and wife anymore, just parents to two rambunctious children and rarely on the same page. I couldn't even remember the last time Erik had called me "little phoenix"...

I climbed onto the piano and stretched myself out on top of it, laying my cheek against the smooth surface and closing my eyes. So much had changed...so much was gone...

There were no footsteps, but I heard the sound of someone opening one of the glass-fronted cases and the soft clatter of an instrument being removed. I didn't look up, and I didn't have to. A lone violin began to sing, clear and sweet, the music Erik had written for me. Its power was undiminished and the love that had inspired it still tasted so pure and felt so alive. And just because I couldn't see it, didn't mean that it wasn't there.

I raised my head and saw him standing there with the violin, his eyes riveted on me and full of apology and worship. We didn't exchange a word as he played, and when he reached the end of the piece he set the instrument down and came to me, gathering me into his arms and holding me to him. He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head. "I'm sorry, my phoenix," he murmured. "I'm sorry."

I pressed my face into his chest and mumbled, "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

Drawing back far enough to look into his eyes, I replied, "Do you know how long it's been since you called me phoenix?"

"Too long. I haven't said it enough lately. But I promise you, I've called you little else in my thoughts, even if I didn't make it known."

I leaned against him again and said, "I'm so sorry I flew off the handle. It's just—so much has changed and I wouldn't wish any of this away for the world, but...I feel like we've lost something when I think of how we used to be. Don't you remember, Erik?"

"I remember every time I look at you," he told me. "I still have trouble breathing; I still get dizzy; I still feel the mad desire to lay down with you and lose ourselves in all the old passion until it's impossible to find ourselves again."

"The old passion?" I repeated. "Does it have to be old? We already have two children, and when you talk like that I feel like a decrepit hag."

"Oh, nonsense. What do you have to fret over, little phoenix? You'll live forever with that fire in your soul. I'm turning into an old man before your eyes."

I looked at him, seeing new lines in his face and streaks of silver in his hair. He was much older than I was, after all, and it hurt me to recall that someday I would have to live without him, just one more thing to lose forever. "Don't say that," I begged, hiding my face once more. "I love you far too much, Erik, and I don't ever want to lose you. I'll die without you."

"Don't _you _talk like that," he replied. "You're not going to lose me any time soon." He cupped my chin and made me look at him, letting that fiery gaze burn into me. "We haven't lost anything," he murmured. "We've gained so much more." Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I opened my mouth and my tongue sought his; a delighted shiver passed through me when he met me with no restraint. He broke away and whispered in my ear, "The things I want to do to you, Vivienne..."

My eyes fell shut and I drew in a breath, my body humming with longing at his words and the desire laced in his voice. "Please, _mon amour_," I pleaded in reply, "please show me."

He kissed my neck and I gave a tiny whimper to feel his tongue lap my skin. "I will," he vowed, "believe you me, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait, little phoenix. We've left our chicks unattended for too long as it is."

He scooped me up into his arms and carried me from the music room back into the kitchen. He set me back on my feet and gave me one last kiss that hinted at ecstasies to come before we followed the sounds of our children into the dining room.

Ren and Annelise were seated at the table, tearing into their lunch like little wolves as opposed to the chicks Erik called them. They looked up at our entrance and slid from their chairs, coming to us and clinging to my legs. "You're not upset anymore, are you, Maman?" Ren asked.

"No, darling, I'm not," I assured him, smoothing his ruffled hair.

"Can we go back to the music room now?" Annelise implored.

"Actually, why don't we all go out for a walk through the park?" Erik suggested. "It's a beautiful day, and we could all use some fresh air."

"Really?" They both showed every sign of pouting and pleading until he gave in.

"Really," he said firmly. "We can go back to the music room later."

They hesitated, then turned pitiful eyes to me and said, "Maman?"

I shook my head, trying not to smile. "You heard your father," I told them. "Come on, let's clear the table, then we'll all go outside."

Ten minutes later, Erik and I followed behind and watched them as they ran ahead, racing each other through the trees on short little legs, stopping to look under rocks and fallen limbs, and beckoning energetically to show us every beetle and wildflower. I felt a peculiar lightness in my chest, as though my heart had sailed away into the clouds, and I took off running and laughing through the trees. I heard the twins' laughter join in with mine and swift footsteps behind me and Erik caught up with me, whisking me off my feet and spinning me around and around. We fell in a heap on the grass, still laughing, and it trebled as Ren and Annelise rushed over and threw themselves down with us.

I gathered my chicks into my arms and kissed them, and Erik drew the three of us to him and kissed me. Our little family might have been more than I'd bargained for when I first hid in the Opera all those years ago, but it was all I would ever need.

* * *

_Erik_

I lay in bed next to her, watching her as she slept. She was stirring faintly; she would wake soon. She gave a soft sigh and opened those beautiful eyes, and she smiled when she saw me. It still amazed me after all these years, how she could wake up to me every morning and still smile as if I was the only thing on earth worthy of the honor. "Have we met before?" she asked. "I'm sure I've dreamed of you somewhere."

I ran my fingers through her hair and across her face, tracing her lips before kissing them. "What did you dream of?" I asked her.

She smiled again and said, "This."

I caressed her skin, her body warm and soft beneath my hands. She still insisted she had changed so much from the ballerina I met in the Opera cellars, but I didn't give a damn. She was still my Vivienne, my little phoenix. "Did you dream this?" I asked.

"Something like it," she replied.

"What about this?" Without waiting for permission, I gathered her night gown in my grasp and lifted it over her head. I kissed her bare shoulder and asked again, "Was this in your dream?"

"It might have been," she told me. "You're getting warmer."

I let my hand wander freely, following her curves down her waist and over her hip, coming to rest at her thigh. "And this?"

A sigh escaped her lips. "Yes, I think so." She wriggled slightly, trying to shift me elsewhere on her body, but I didn't take the bait. "Tell me what you dreamed, Vivienne."

"Do you really need me to?" she asked.

"How else will I know how to make it come true?" I countered.

She closed her eyes briefly and opened them again, holding my gaze and never once turning away as she said, "You put those clever hands of yours on my body."

"Done," I replied, reaching up to cup her breast while my other hand continued to stroke her leg. "What else?"

"I could feel your lips everywhere," she went on, "over every inch of skin."

I readily complied, letting them fall everywhere as she bid, ready to do anything to please her but only after I heard it straight from her. Her wish was my command.

I took her nipple in my mouth, hearing her sharp, sudden gasp. She twisted her fingers into my hair as I devoured her, tracing circles with the tip of my tongue, and her whimpers and cries steadily grew louder. I paused and glanced up at her, saying slyly, "I know how much you like this, my phoenix, but you mustn't get too carried away. We don't want to disturb the children."

"Then why play games with me, Erik?" she asked, her green eyes glazed over.

I bestowed another kiss on her collarbone and replied, "Because it pleases me to please you."

I took my time, moving slowly down her body and feeling her rise up to meet me. She parted her legs but I ignored the hint, asking, "What else did you dream?"

"You kept touching me," she answered, her voice trembling. "You reached inside and you brought me so high, Erik, so high..."

"Like this?" I finally gave her what she wanted, slipping my fingers into her body and moving in the way I knew would please her most. Her shiver of ecstasy was my reward, along with her breathless sigh that was the sweetest music to my ears. "How high did I bring you?" I murmured softly. "Tell me."

"Oh, God, Erik, I thought I'd never touch the ground again!" she declared ardently. Bless her, she was trying so hard to stay quiet, but she was losing the battle beneath my careful, exacting touch. I kept stroking, seeking to take her precisely that high, and she burst out, "Erik, I can't! I can't!"

"Ssh," I soothed, kissing her neck and whispering, "It's all right, little one. It's all right; don't fight it."

She reached out and pulled me down to her, pressing her lips to mine as though it was necessary to save her soul. I didn't do more than gently move my mouth against hers; she'd clenched her teeth and I could hear the cries she struggled not to release trapped in her throat. She was holding her breath, either unable to breathe or afraid to. Her body spasmed again and again. She was nearly there...

One heartbeat later, she arched her back and gave a great shuddering gasp as air rushed into her lungs and euphoria stole through her. I watched her, paralyzed by my wonder at the look of heaven on her face and the light that seemed to pour from her skin. She never looked as beautiful as she did in these pure, unguarded moments.

She fell back onto the bed with her eyes closed and a contented smile on her lips, still panting for breath. I lay beside her again and she cuddled close, burying her face against my chest. "Is that what you dreamed?" I asked, breathing deeply and inhaling her scent.

She gave a satisfied hum. "It was better than I dreamed."

I smiled and kissed the top of her head.

We lay in silence perfectly undisturbed for several minutes before the bedroom door was thrown open and two little seven-year-olds rushed inside, racing across the room to leap onto the bed. Vivienne drew the blankets up around herself and asked, "How many times have you two been told to knock before entering a room?"

"Especially this one?" I amended, stopping Ren from jumping on the bed.

"It's all right, Maman," Annelise replied. "We waited until you stopped making noise."

I had to restrain my laughter as Vivienne cringed and flushed pink with embarrassment. "It's fine, mother hen," I told her. "They don't know what they heard."

"Yes, we do," Ren chimed in. "She was having an orgas—"

I snatched him up and covered his mouth, but Vivienne was already shooting me a suspicious look. "I was having a what?" she inquired.

"Nothing," I replied. "You know, children say the strangest things sometimes—"

He wiggled free and said, "But I read it in that book in the library—"

"For God's sake, Rene, quit digging my grave!"

"What book in the library, Erik?" She paused at the sheepish look on my face and heaved an exasperated sigh. "You were supposed to have put those books in the library ages ago!"

"I was going to," I insisted, "but I came into the room last week and the little scoundrel had climbed the stepladder to the top shelf and was reading faster than I'd ever seen before!"

"Maman," he piped up, eager to share his ill-gotten knowledge, "did you know that by stimulating a woman's cli—"

"All right, enough of that," I interrupted. "You chicks run downstairs and get the table set for breakfast. Can you do that without causing any mischief?"

They nodded.

"Off with you, then. Your mother and I need to get dressed."

They scurried from the room and I heard them hustle down the stairs as I closed the door again. "Honestly, Erik, the things you teach our children," Vivienne remarked behind me.

"Don't blame me," I told her, turning back to her. "You're the one always so curious about everything. Our son owes his new knowledge to you, Madame."

She rolled her eyes and threw off the blankets, making to rise from the bed. Before she could, I crossed the room in three strides and pinned her down, pressing her body into the mattress and restraining her wrists in my hands. "You, my dear, are irresistible," I informed her. "I find it impossible to keep from putting a hole in this bed with you."

"Well, it will have to be possible," she replied, staring up at me in amusement. "We have to make that trip into the city today."

"It can wait until tomorrow," I told her, kissing her eyes and nose and nuzzling her neck.

"Our precocious chicks are downstairs alone doing who knows what," she went on.

I shrugged unaffectedly. "They won't burn the house down. The only danger of that is in this room with me and you."

"And as you so courteously proved," she finished, "I can't stay quiet in the throes of passion and I won't contribute to that branch of our children's education, thank you very much, monsieur."

"Killjoy," I accused, leaning down and kissing her lips. I felt her smile beneath me and she wrapped her legs around me. I couldn't hold back my own smirk of satisfaction, but moments later she brought one leg back up between us and, placing her foot in the middle of my chest, pushed me off her. I rolled onto my back and she straddled me, taking her turn to kiss and caress.

My grin never wavered as I felt her hands brush across my skin. "Still my limber chorus girl," I told her, feeling the stirrings of pride and arousal.

Her own smile widened as her hand wandered lower, saying, "We can learn all over again just how limber..."

"That sounds like an excellent idea," I agreed, my voice going low and rough. My breath caught in my chest as she continued to work me over. _My God, she's amazing..._

With a devious chuckle, she released me and stood up, leaving me wallowing in misery at the denial. "Just a prelude for later," she said, still grinning wickedly. "I've heard the anticipation intensifies the ecstasy."

"Now where have I heard that before?" I groaned.

"And how does it suit your fancy?"

"Damn it, woman, why must you tease me so mercilessly?"

"Because it pleases me to tease you." She put on her dressing gown and said, "Come on, you lecherous rake. We can't stay in bed all day."

I sighed resignedly and got to my feet. "You owe me tonight."

"Don't worry, I'll repay my debt with interest." She crossed the room and proceeded to dress for the day, further tormenting me by letting the robe fall to the floor again and opening her wardrobe, standing in the door and paying no attention to me as she selected her clothes for the day. I watched her ravenously as she drew on her stockings, rolling them slowly up her legs and halting at the tops of her thighs, brushing her hand tantalizingly close to her womanhood and across her navel before reaching for the rest of her undergarments. Little by little, her flesh was hidden from my hungry gaze, and just as she'd intended, it left me longing for night to fall once more.

"You certainly put on one hell of a show, little phoenix," I told her. "I almost can't bear to wait."

"The best things are worth a little patience," she replied, stepping into her chosen gown and putting her arms into the sleeves. "And I'll be sure to make it more than worth it, as there's no telling when we can do it again."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing," she replied airily. She sat down at the dressing table and brushed out her long red hair, twisting it up and pinning it in place. I always knew when she planned on going out by the way she arranged her hair in the mornings. If she simply let it fall free and wild, she was staying in our nest. If she tamed it and subdued it, she was going to stretch her wings. "Don't stand there staring," she told me. "You promised to come with us today."

She had taken Ren and Annelise on several trips into Paris already, but I had always stayed behind. There was one family outing five months after the twins were born, just one. Crashing the Garnier's reopening was one thing, but it was quite another to walk the city streets unmasked in broad daylight. I hadn't minded in Vienna; I'd been too wrapped up in our honeymoon to pay attention to the stares I drew. In Paris, every eye was turned to me and people whispered as we passed, even shouted aloud. There was no overt hostility, but I still felt anxious and exposed and we'd returned home early.

I hadn't accompanied my family anywhere since then. I hadn't worn my mask in over seven years and the children, God bless their precious little hearts, had never seen anything wrong with my appearance. To them, if I looked any other way, then I wouldn't be their father. I didn't want them to see how the rest of the world saw me, ashamed to appear weak in front of them.

"Actually, Vivienne," I said, "maybe it's best if I don't go."

Her eyes met mine in the mirror. She knew why I always chose to stay at home, but she always wore that disappointed expression when I announced the intention. "Erik, you promised them," she reminded me. "You know they always ask me why you never come with us, and I never know what to say to them."

"Tell them I'm spending time alone to work on my music while there's some peace in the house," I replied.

"I have," she told me, "but that excuse will only hold water for so long. You're their father, and they don't understand why you hide at home all the time."

"I don't want them to understand. If they ever came to see me as the freak everyone else does-"

"They're not everyone." She stood up and turned to me, coming to stand before me and still looking me dead in the eye. "They're Ren and Annelise, and they love you just as you are. Nothing's going to change that, Erik, and when they see how it is for you out there, they'll love you even more for braving it for their sake."

She paused and cocked her head thoughtfully, letting her words sink in before adding, "If, on the other hand, you want them to think less of you, then by all means break your promise and stay in hiding for the rest of your life."

Damn it. Why did she have to have such a knack for ending me to her will? I could be an obstinate ass, but she could argue a brick wall into crumbling at her feet. She'd set out to shame me into giving in, and the hell if she wasn't winning.

I pathetically tried to hold the ground I'd already lost. "They've never seen the mask before," I protested. "As far as they're concerned, I've never worn one and there's no reason for me to."

"Which is as it should be," she said.

"So how will they react to it?"

"How will you ever know without trying?" I still hesitated and she went on, "You know, I've never had to threaten certain marital privileges, and it would be a shame to start now."

"You wouldn't go that far," I replied, leaning down to kiss her, but she took a step back and said, "I'd hate to think it was necessary."

I heaved a sigh. "Can't I ever win at least once?" I complained.

"You can win later, I promise," she assured me. She finally allowed me to kiss her, then said, "I'll meet you downstairs." With that, she left the room.

I followed her shortly after, freezing outside the dining room and listening to the three of them carrying on inside. From what I gathered, it was the usual dispute over seating arrangements going on. I smiled to myself and adjusted my mask. It had been so long since I'd worn it, but I was already growing used to it again. The thought didn't make me any less nervous.

I took a deep breath to steady myself, then walked into the room.

They were all gathered around the table waiting for me to arrive for breakfast. I met no one's eye as I took my usual place, but I could feel them watching me...a familiar sensation, and one I'd long learned to despise. "Is something wrong?" I asked, trying to keep the resentful, combative note out of my voice.

"Why is your face covered, Papa?" Ren asked.

While I tried to concoct an answer, I replied, "Because I'm going out with you today."

"Why are you covering your face to go out?"

I stopped, unwilling to go on. What was I supposed to say? According to the world outside, I was a hideous, malformed demon. My children had never once thought of me that way; I couldn't stand to explain it to them. Before I could say anything, Vivienne told him, "Because your papa is famous."

Their eyes widened in amazement and I was completely thrown. Where was she going with this?

She nodded and went on, "He's a very famous musician. He's well-known in Paris, so he has to go out in disguise. That way, no one recognizes him."

"Really?"

"Of course. Didn't you know that's why he stays at home?"

They shook their heads and Annelise asked, "Are _you _famous, Maman?"

"Why, yes."

"Why aren't you in disguise?"

"I am," she said, tucking a strand of hair that had come loose aside. "Do you ever see me like this at home? I'm not just getting dressed up, you know." She drew out her chair and gestured to the twins to sit down.

"Tell us how you're famous," Ren demanded. "Are you a musician, too?"

"Of course she is, you ninny," Annelise jumped in. "You know how she plays the violin and the piano, even if she's not as good as Papa."

"Well, thank you very much, darling," Vivienne told her, chuckling. "But yes, Papa taught me how to play, and we performed in front of a sold-out audience at the Opera House."

I had to hand it to her, she always knew what to do. I couldn't tell them myself, so she did it in a way I wouldn't feel ashamed. She'd told them the truth, as well. I _was_ famous in Paris...in a manner. We _had _played at the Opera House...after hijacking the performance. They exchanged incredulous looks, and I glanced at Vivienne. "Thank you," I mouthed silently.

She nodded and smiled.

After breakfast I harnessed the horses and we set off in the chaise. The twins lost no time in informing me that their mother was a good driver, they supposed, but she never went fast enough and she never let them hold the reins. I shot her a questioning look and she shrugged, so under a careful eye, Ren and Annelise finally got their chance to drive the carriage.

When we arrived in the city, Vivienne turned to me and said, "You don't mind keeping them with you for a time, do you? I have some business to take care of."

She said it so officiously I had to laugh at her. "What business might that be, little phoenix?"

"Woman's business," she told me. "I'm going to see a doctor."

"There's nothing wrong, is there?" I asked, suddenly alert.

"Not at all, but it's better to know for sure."

I nodded, still not entirely satisfied, and a short while later I dropped her off outside a physician's office. "I should only be an hour or so," she said as I handed her out. "Try not to get into too much trouble."

"Nothing too serious," I replied. "I'd only planned on making the bells in the Madeleine disappear, or bringing the displays at the Musée Grévin to life, or maybe even vanish the Arc de Triomphe. But I promise, we won't burn down the Garnier again."

"And absolutely no abducting any more sopranos!" she chided.

"Now why would I do that," I asked, "when my own lovely phoenix sings for me every night?"

"For pity's sake, Erik! Not in front of the children!" A final farewell, and we parted.

"What did you mean, Papa?" Ren asked me. "Maman doesn't sing."

"Of course she does," I replied. "I'll tell you when you're older."

"Did you teach her how?"

"I helped her there, so to speak."

"Will you teach me?" Annelise asked.

"Absolutely not," I told her. "In fact, I forbid you to sing for as long as you live."

She was horrorstruck. "But why? You've taught me how to play every other instrument at home."

I turned to look at her, her bright golden eyes wide as she toyed with the ribbon in her hair. Ah, sweet innocent child...it was terribly unfair of me to tease her in her naiveté. And besotted as I was with both of my children, it was very difficult to refuse them anything.

"Well, in that case I might as well give you a lesson or two," I told her. "Tomorrow I'll teach you a few exercises, and if you like it we can go from there."

She beamed. She really was my little prodigy, already proficient in piano, violin, and harp, and the two of us together had ventured to gain competency in several other instruments even I didn't know how to play. Vivienne joined us from time to time, but she was mostly content to watch us. I hadn't yet done anything to train our little girl's voice, but she was quite old enough now that some gentle coaching wouldn't harm her vocal chords.

Rene had no turn for music. He had good taste and would sit and listen for long stretches of time, but he was gifted in other fields. I just knew we had a budding architect on our hands, or some sort of scientist, or a well-read scholar at the very least. He was always asking questions, searching for new discoveries, and working with his hands. He'd spent six weeks taking an old clock apart, learning how it worked, then putting it back together again. He was excellent with numbers and had hardly needed to be taught how to read. He devoured every book we gave him—even a few we hadn't—and was filled with an endless, burning curiosity. In this respect, he was truly his mother's son.

Needless to say, I loved them both more than anything imaginable and I could never find words to express just how much they meant to me.

We took a drive by the Seine before returning to the physician's to fetch Vivienne. She was waiting for us on the pavement, her expression closed and guarded. I caught notice of it and immediately asked, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied.

"Vivienne, if there's something you have to tell me—"

"We'll discuss it later, but not here." She would say no more on the subject, and I was forced to wait. We took the twins to a park and made our way to the nearby pond, standing on the bank and watching the swans swim serenely. I kept stealing glances at Vivienne. She was as serene as those birds, and I couldn't guess what it was she had to tell me.

My mask drew more than a fair share of curious glances and I could sense the usual whispers and surmises as we walked. I had the strongest urge to gather my family and return home away from those prying eyes, but Vivienne whispered back to Ren and Annelise how my disguise was working. The people around us were only vaguely interested because I was the only one with my face hidden, but if I hadn't been wearing my mask, I would have been recognized in an instant by all my admirers and we wouldn't have been allowed to enjoy our walk in peace. "It's an enormous risk to take this trouble," she finished, "but your papa did it so we could have this time as a family."

The twins nodded.

"So we can't act like we know he's famous, correct?"

They agreed.

My God, what had I possibly done to deserve this, a wife and children I worshiped and cherished so much? They not only put up with my eccentricities and impossible ways, but they loved me, genuinely loved me. And after all these years together, I never ceased to be grateful of that, miraculous as it seemed to me.

We returned home and spent the last few hours of the day together. Vivienne and I joined Annelise for a trio of two violins and the piano, and after dinner we gathered in the sitting room where Ren and I took turns reading aloud. Annelise began to drowse on the sofa, and that was the signal for bed.

Once the twins were settled for the night, Vivienne and I went to our bedroom. Neither of us had forgotten the promises of the morning, but we also hadn't forgotten she had news to share.

"What is it you need to tell me, little phoenix?" I asked. "Is it—serious?"

"Very," she replied, betraying little to no emotion.

"How will I react to this?"

"Your life will change forever."

"Can it change more than it already has?"

"Yes."

I stared at her, getting annoyed and desperate. "Christ, Vivienne, just tell me!" I burst out. "What is it?"

Something changed in her expression, and she asked, "Do you still forfeit your right to name any more children?"

"What do you mean, do I still—" I halted, her words catching up with me. "What do you mean, _more _children?"

Her entire countenance opened up at last, revealing her secret bliss and making the light in her eyes dance. She smiled at me, and I recognized that smile even after nearly eight years.

I felt my own face split into a grin. "No," I said. "Don't tell me."

She just kept smiling.

"You're not," I went on. "Tell the truth."

"Would I lie about something like that?"

"So we're—"

"Yes! Another one on the way!"

I burst out laughing and threw my arms around her, dancing her around the room. "How long have you suspected this?" I demanded.

"Awhile," she answered.

"And you didn't say anything!"

"I wanted to be sure before I said anything. I didn't want you to get your hopes up about Prodigy Number Three."

I chuckled, then asked, "So what are we going to call this one?"

"Let's not start that argument already," she implored. "Let's just savor the moment before the vomiting and the mood swings and the weight gain strike with a vengeance."

"Do, let's," I agreed, tossing her over my shoulder and carrying her to bed amidst her laughter. I set her down and lay over her, already dying to steal every bit of her I could. "You realize you're not going to get any sleep tonight after telling me something like that?" I asked, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat.

"I was counting on it," she replied.

I grinned at her, and those were the last words we spoke all night as we devoted ourselves to making each other even more ecstatically happy than we already were. Such a feat seemed unreal, but we were getting better at doing the impossible, and I looked forward to doing it again and again in the years still to come.

**There we are. This really is goodbye for these two...thanks for putting up with them for this long! :)  
**


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